(06/02/2013) Black Rose
Part 3 of 3
Darkness comes in many forms
The most
Beautiful.
Elegant.
Terrifying.
Of which
Is the black rose.
What I carry with me when I go
Is a rose as black
As the dark itself.
It’s thorns dig deeper
Its petals bring pain.
It is the evil angel.
The guardian.
Who blocks my vision,
And guides my steps
No matter where they may lead.
Because to watch a black rose bloom
Is surely to court death.
It is the looming despair
That haunts me every day
Beautiful.
Elegant.
Despair.
I carry the rose
Into that good night
As the black rose guides me
into a field of thousands
Just.
Like.
Her.
©2013 Alex Hicks
Posted on 06/02/2013, in Poetry and tagged black rose, court, darkness, death, despair, emotion, poetry, red rose, roses, three, white trose, writing. Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.
The fragrance of black rose is so sweet,its darkness does not lessen the breathe, look at the black rose wake up in the morning, the last night darkness could not keep, the black rose to bloom in the morning, with light as its guardian to keep…
I love this one. ~J